Reluctant Savior
by venus4280
Summary: Beginning of 6th year, with lots of new material: motivations and emotions examined, transitioning from anger, to grief, and finally to acceptance and resolve. Mentoring fic, Snape figures prominently- post OOTP.
1. The Dursleys and the Deatheater

Title: Reluctant Savior (Chapter 1)

Author name: venus4280

Category: Drama, comedy (yes it can be both when one is playing with Severus)

Rating: Pg-13 for language/intensity- subject to change

Spoilers: all five books- sort of

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended, and I get nothing from borrowing them except the pleasure of trying to write a good story.

Archive: If you want, just email me to let me know

Harry heard the commotion downstairs and was shocked. There had been no tell-tale hairs raised on the back of his neck, no gut feeling, and absolutely no warning from his scar. Nevertheless, when he peeked through the door of his bedroom to look upon the scene below, he could see a black blob- a death eater come to claim him for his master.

Attempting desperately to calm himself, he began to reason through his options. Ever the Gryffindor, a potentially fatal combination of bravery, loyalty, and teenage sense of immortality pulsed through his veins. Harry resolved to descend the stairs and make an effort to defend the Dursleys. Cruel and abusive they may have been, but no one deserved to be tortured by the servants of Lord Voldemort.

Trying not to panic during what could quite possibly be the last moments of his life, Harry searched blindly through his trunk- which had mercifully remained in his bedroom (the result of a well-timed shrinking charm designed to wear off after 24 hours)- for his wand. Frantically rummaging, he shouted a triumphant "Ha" when his fingers closed over the wooden implement. After securing the lid to his trunk, he turned toward the door, determined to do what he could to aid his family. He could still hear his aunt screaming, "must be the Cruciatus," he thought grimly, shuddering in spite of himself.

Harry had only reached the bed, when the door flew open and a black clad figure entered the tiny room. With only seconds to consider his actions, Harry drew himself up to his full height- such as it was- and held his wand ready, pulling reserves from places he didn't know he had.

Next, Harry spoke, his voice cold and sharp like the blade of a steel dagger; his tenor was quiet, but deliberate, and coupled with the fact that his wand was poised to strike, the effect was quite threatening. "Know this, minion of Voldemort, I will not go down without a fight! I will _never_ join your master. I would rather die the most horrible, painful death possible than be turned into a weapon against the light."

The man in black stood, unmoving, contemplating the small figure before him. He absently noted that the boy looked painfully thin, almost malnourished. Still, there was a defiance in his stance, and in his eyes, and most definitely in the way he held his wand. His posture spoke miles of his Quidditch training- tense, battle-ready. In him there was a power beyond other magic, and it emanated from him in waves; there was no fear, merely determination. The older man trembled slightly and would of course deny it later, for he himself was a formidable wizard of great skill and not easily intimidated, least of all by a half-trained midget. However, before him was not the shy , clumsy teenager blushing at some social faux pas or at a mistake made unwittingly in class, nor was this even the handsome, more confident star of the quidditch pitch. No, this was the sole survivor of Avada Kedavra, the wizard who defeated the Dark Lord as a baby and who repeatedly thwarted his plans to regain power when he was little more than a child.

The air between them was charged, and the man in the black cloak decided that he had better put an end to the charade before someone was injured. Although it was perhaps not the most intelligent response given his current situation- namely standing before a trigger-happy, sexually frustrated teenager with a drawn wand who was convinced that he was his sworn mortal enemy- but certainly his preferred coping mechanism: he opted for a sneering insult.

"Potter, did you rehearse that bit from before, or are you just crocked out of your ever-living tree?!"

With the pronouncement of this question, Harry's eerie green-eyed gaze faltered; he then proceeded to open and close his mouth several times in quick succession, clearly astonished.

"Professor Snape?" Harry couldn't believe it.

"What? You were expecting Santa Claus?" Snape too was shaking his head in disbelief, but more at Harry's utter stupidity than due to any surprise at their current circumstances.

"Now, come on! We haven't got all day."

"What?" Harry paused, interrupting himself, "Where?" he just couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that he was holding his Potions Master at wandpoint in his bedroom… He pinched himself, just to make sure this wasn't some sadistic nightmare. It's not like it would be the first time Snape had appeared uninvited in the boy's dreams.

"Honestly Potter, don't gape; and put that thing away," Severus Snape said, gesturing to Harry's wand, "you might hurt yourself."

"But…" he didn't move, his posture still rigid, his wand still raised. A minute passed, then two, and finally he brought the wooden stick down to his side, stunned. "I could have killed you!" Harry seemed shocked by this reality, almost deploring his reactions, though Snape couldn't tell if the sudden sorrow etched on Harry's face and in the tilt of his shoulders was a result of a perceived missed opportunity or because of a revulsion towards violence and death. Frankly, the Potions Master didn't care.

"Don't flatter yourself," Snape countered nastily, not wanting to get sucked into an emotional moment with his least favorite student, "As if _I_ couldn't handle anything _you_ could throw at me." The older man's disdain was palpable.

Still, Harry remained rooted to the floor, looking rather distraught, "Professor, I am so sorry… I thought you were a death eater… I… I mean…. I don't have my glasses and all I could see was black. I…I heard my aunt's screams and just assumed that Voldemort had finally breached whatever protections and wards Dumbledore erected here," all of this came tumbling out of his mouth in a great rush, he appeared flushed and quite exhausted, but the story continued, the need to justify himself, to Snape and to himself, was clearly written on his face. "I was going to try and help them when you came in here…"

Snape interrupted him impatiently, "and here I thought this was the way you expressed your gratitude." The words were harsh, but the expression on the Potion Master's face belied the rancor in his voice, but as Harry couldn't see much of anything at this point, the contradiction was lost on him.

"Oh, and I assure you, your disgusting relatives are still very much alive and unharmed."

Snape added as an afterthought. Harry just nodded; his eyes staring at some point on the floor beyond his feet.

"I do believe that you have wasted enough of my time with your drama this afternoon. Are you ready?"

Again Harry looked surprised, as if his emotional outburst had wiped the memory of the professor's earlier requests for departure.

"Merlin's owl!" Snape's patience was clearly wearing thin. He stooped down until he was roughly at Harry's height and then spoke very slowly as if to a mentally deficient child.

"Dumbledore told me to come and get you, to take you to Hogwarts- I don't know why, so don't ask!" He paused, observing Harry's reaction to his speech. "Enough, now come!" he beckoned.

Finally, Harry moved from his position by the bed, stumbling in the general direction of his trunk. Kneeling on the floor beside it, he made sure the latch was tight before rising again to survey the room. Scanning the area, he found that the quick motion of the blurry surroundings coupled with his horrendous headache made him quite dizzy- he reached out to the bedpost to steady himself, and Snape shot him an appraising look.

"Do you see anything I might have missed?" Harry seemed to wince at the sound of his own voice reverberating in his skull. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, resisting the urge to rub his temples in hopes of alleviating some of the throbbing pain behind his eyes. He continued, softly, "If I leave anything behind they are not likely to send it to me."

Snape tried to squash the rising tide of sympathy within him, appeasing the emotion by grabbing what appeared to be an owl cage from the desk and a book on quidditch from the windowsill.

"Thanks" said Harry, sincerely, struggling with the trunk.

"Back off!" Snape responded sharply.

Harry looked bewildered, thinking rather uncomplimentary thoughts about where Snape must have been raised based upon his lack of manners. He managed to limit his response to a mere perplexed, "What?"

Again Snape shot him a death glare, accompanied by a sneer that said, "you really are a stupid git," all this was lost on Harry, though, as he reluctantly stepped away from his possessions.

Snape proceeded to pull his wand out of the billowing sleeve of his robe and cast a spell- "_reducto_" he muttered, causing the trunk, cage, and book to become small enough to fit in his pocket.

"Are you finished dawdling now? I really do have some pressing things to attend to that do not involve the fetching of the ungrateful and idiotic 'Boy who Lived.'" Severus really had a talent for making even the simplest question into an insult.

"I think so," Harry replied.

"Good." With that, he pocketed Harry's things and turned toward the door once again. Harry followed the professor down the steps unsteadily, only to meet with the sight of an enraged Uncle Vernon. He loomed menacingly: a purple-faced, thick-necked, seething mass, bent upon punishing Harry.

"Boy, what is the meaning of this…this… intrusion?" The vein in his forehead seemed ready to burst. Harry faltered in the face of such anger, unsure of how best to defend himself.

"It's bad enough," Vernon continued, "that we have to suffer under this roof with you and your _abnormality_ – but to invite one of your kind…" he was so mad he was spitting, his rage building by the second. His cousin Dudley was snickering in the background- though it should be noted that he had his back, and thus backside, firmly against the wall, and his hand covered his mouth when he laughed.

Vernon, continued his tirade before moving to brutally strike Harry, who was at this point bracing himself for the pending impact. Clearly this had happened before.

Snape took this opportunity to intervene. Seeing that foul muggle raise his hand to the Boy Who Lived… really, it was enough to make even the most unfeeling of wizards quite livid. The Potions Master snatched Harry from the line of fire and said in a voice that permitted no argument, "that will be enough of that." He fixed his death glare, a look quite renowned and feared among his students, upon the three Dursleys and placed his hand on his wand to emphasize that he was not to be trifled with. The trio looked on in fear. Harry, by contrast, looked stunned, but grateful. Shaking his head, Severus thought, "God, what does Potter think of me? That I would allow him to be smacked about in my presence in retaliation for something over which he had no control. Sure I don't like the boy, but I certainly don't condone child abuse."

At this, Snape propelled Harry to the front door, and both strode from 4 Privet Drive without looking back. Once in the driveway of the offending abode, Snape stood thoughtful for a moment. He had planned to apparate with Harry to Hogsmeade, but as he gazed critically upon Harry, he didn't think they would make it. He noticed the lines of pain around Harry's eyes, from a headache- or perhaps something else, Snape thought darkly, reliving the scene from the Dursley's sitting room. Not to mention the fact that it looked as if he hadn't eaten or slept in the five weeks since he had returned home from Hogwarts. All in all, he was rather surprised Harry had remained upright this long.

Snape directed Harry to the curb and stuck out his wand. Suddenly, the Knight bus appeared and the two boarded the vehicle, as Harry shot him an apologetic look that said 'I am not sure I have any wizarding gold with me and I can't see well enough to find it right now even if I did.'

The silent communication between the two was suddenly interrupted by the annoying attendant.

"'Ey Ern, it's 'Arry Potter, it is!

"Yes Potter," Snarked Snape snidely as he ushered him down the aisle, "Perhaps you should sign a few autographs; I wouldn't want you to disappoint your fan club on my account."

Harry turned and fixed a death glare of his own on the Professor, the potency of which was all but eliminated by the fact that Harry's knees chose to buckle under him at precisely that moment, forcing the Potions Master to grab him around the waist to keep him from collapsing to the ground. It was then, as Snape tried to inconspicuously ascertain that Harry was okay without embarrassing himself or the boy further, that Stan noticed the man accompanying the Boy Who Lived was none other that the sarcastic Potions Master with the caustic wit, Severus Snape.

Stan stammered a greeting, cowering in fear, "P-P-Professor…- Uh, 'ow y-you been?"

"Considerably better since you graduated," Snape retorted icily, all traces of any kind emotion exorcised from his being. "We want to go to Hogwarts, how close can you get us?"

"To the 'ogwarts' Express Station, I expect" answered the driver.

Snape nodded his approval and joined Harry on a bed toward the back of the bus, wondering idly how often they washed the sheets. When he approached Harry, the boy had his eyes closed, and was absently massaging his temples, gritting his teeth.

"What happened to your glasses, Potter?" Questioned Snape, softly, not wanting to exacerbate the young man's condition.

"Dudley" Harry answered shortly, unwilling to elaborate.

Snape nodded, feigning interest in the discarded copy of the Daily Prophet lying on the bed next to them; meanwhile, he observed Harry- his black hair was disheveled as usual, but he couldn't see the emerald eyes, as they were closed. Snape couldn't help but think that Harry looked so young and innocent, even more so, without the distinctive, albeit unflattering, spectacles.

Snape snorted derisively, the boy, even at 15, going on 16- of age in the wizarding world- was no more than 5'3." Thin, frail looking, he couldn't believe he had actually been afraid, even momentarily, of the person now sleeping next to him. If this was the only hope for the future of the wizarding world, Snape couldn't help but think, 'Merlin help us!!'

TBC


	2. Emerging from the Dark

Title: Reluctant Savior (Chapter 2)

Author name: venus4280

Category: Drama, Snape mentors Harry…

Rating: Pg-13 for language/intensity- subject to change

Spoilers: all five books

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended, and I get nothing from borrowing them except the pleasure of trying to write a good story.

Archive: If you want, just email me to let me know

The Knight Bus jerked to a stop inside the Hogwart's Express terminal. Miraculously, the unlikely duo had arrived at their desired destination safely, despite the roaring incompetence of both the driver and attendant helming the wizard transport.

Harry was still sleeping rather soundly, his head perched delicately on a grungy pillow. Snape frowned, concerned eyes threatening to disturb his otherwise cold and brooding visage. He was quite reluctant to wake the younger wizard, but it was necessary.

He shook the boy gently, "Potter, wake up." In response, Harry's body jerked violently from its sprawl as he inhaled sharply, his hand clutching his wand. He opened his startlingly green eyes that flashed the Jade of the Chinese Middle Kingdom or the rare malachite of the Russian Empire. "A little jumpy, Potter?" inquired Snape, grimly amused at Harry's instinctually defensive posture.

Harry merely looked on confused, still not entirely aware. He absently rubbed his eyes with one hand while the other patted the seat, methodically hunting for something that it would never find. "Your glasses aren't here, Potter," Snape said gently, immediately recognizing the boy's search pattern.

Finally, Harry looked up at Snape, comprehending the situation. His gaze once again focused on his feet as he blushed, running his hand through his sloppy hair. "I know, sorry," he mumbled, though neither he nor Snape were entirely certain as to why he was apologizing.

Harry wanted to go back to sleep. For whatever reason, his slumber on the trip had been peaceful for the first time in weeks. Knowing full well that he had to accompany Snape to Hogwarts, he braced himself against the bed rail and rose to his feet, despite his reluctance. As the world swam before him, he regretted the move instantly. Nonetheless, he stepped forward cautiously, noting that his professor was no longer beside him. Hoping the Potions Master hadn't decided to leave him at the station, Harry trudged toward the exit. He believed Snape was quite capable of such an act without any provocation, but worried that the man might feel especially motivated to strand his ward by the fact that he had been kept waiting by none other than 'Harry Potter,' his least favorite 'celebrity.'

Unbeknownst to Harry, Severus Snape was actually beginning to feel guilty for leaving the younger man on the bus. He fleetingly considered re-boarding the monstrosity to make sure the boy was okay before reality reasserted itself. "Damn," Snape swore under his breath, Albus would have a field day if he were privy to Snape's musings. At last, Harry's thin, pale form appeared at the top of the stairs.

"Bye now, 'Arry," grinned Stan, waving foolishly.

"Goodbye," Harry responded, politely, turning to the source of the voice. 'Bad move, Potter,' he thought to himself, wondering if anyone would catch him if he were to tumble down the steps.

Pushing aside his worries, he descended from the vehicle, landing awkwardly in Snape's arms as he reached the bottom. Clearly exasperated with his unwanted role of white knight to Harry's damsel in distress, the professor spat, "Would you kindly refrain from collapsing every few feet? I would like to make it to the castle some time today." Harry, ashamed at his weakness, sighed as he noted the disgust in the Potions Master's voice before following the other wizard to the thestral-driven carriage awaiting them.

Once inside, the pair began their journey to the Hogwarts' gate. They rode in silence. Harry, seemingly fascinated by the blur of the passing scenery, was filled with curiosity and self-loathing. Why was he being brought to the castle now? He was terrified that something else had happened, something else for which he was to blame because of his foolishness and immaturity. For, now that the adrenaline had worn off, the damage Harry had done to himself- first in anger and then in grief- was manifested. In his listless state, at the Dursleys', it had been so hard to force himself to go through the daily rituals. Life had seemed irrelevant. He had been so lost; unable to sleep, forgetting to eat. At first, he had willfully courted his uncle's and cousin's anger- seeking punishment, both because he felt he deserved it—people were dead because of him!-- and to feel again, anything… even pain, even rage. Now, in the light of day, he saw this behavior that he had indulged in while drowning in the darkness for what it was: self-defeating, selfish, and not just a little sick. Now look at him! Certainly no match for Voldemort, Harry was wasted, tired… useless; and he hated feeling so powerless, especially in front of Professor Snape, who, Harry knew, expected him to fail.

Thinking of Snape, Harry risked a glance at the tall Potions Master, pondering why the man was still at the school. "Doesn't he have a home, a life, maybe even a family outside Hogwarts?" Harry tried picturing the greasy professor with a wife and kids, and found he had to bite his lip to avoid laughing at the absolute absurdity of it. After all, Snape obviously wasn't overly fond of children, and to have kids, Snape would have to have had… "Whoa, not a mental picture I need at this point," Harry thought to himself, shuddering slightly.

Snape looked up, noting Harry's tremble. He hated to admit it, but he was concerned for the teenager. As Harry stared out the window, Snape took the opportunity to observe his student once again. As the boy fiddled with his hands, Severus noticed several, tiny, crescent-shaped scabs mottling each small palm. "What in the world?" Snape thought…"Fingernails, Of course! But what would cause Potter to dig his fingernails into his palms hard enough or frequently enough to draw blood and leave such permanent marks?" Then, it clicked: the uncle. As the most horrendous scenes flashed unbidden before his eyes, Snape vowed that Vernon Dursley would get his, soon.

But Snape had, as the late Sirius Black accused some three years before at the Shrieking Shack, once again put his keen and penetrating mind to the task, and reached the wrong conclusion. In reality, the scabs were a legacy of Harry's frequent and quite horrific nightmares, yet another reminder of Voldemort's reign of terror.

The silent carriage slowed to a halt, while each of its occupants remained lost in their own thoughts and wondering what the Headmaster had planned.


	3. Summer at Hogwarts

Title: Reluctant Savior (Chapter 3)

Author name: venus4280

Category: Drama, Snape mentors Harry…

Rating: Pg-13 for language/intensity- subject to change

Spoilers: all five books

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended, and I get nothing from borrowing them except the pleasure of trying to write a good story.

Archive: If you want, just email me to let me know

AN: I want to thank all of my wonderful reviewers- you guys rock! Happily, some of you also represent some of my favorite authors on this site. I want to send a special missive to Kip- who rightly pointed out my thestral issue. It has been fixed. – Again, thank you, and as always- read and review!!!

Later, outside Dumbledore's Office

"Sit here, Potter," Snape ordered, pointing to a chair conveniently located in the corridor outside the entrance to the Headmaster's office. "Do try and stay out of trouble!" Harry glared, but nodded, as Severus Snape turned his back and entered Dumbledore's domain, briefly vexed at being excluded as if he were an ill-behaved child.

Ignorant of the brooding teenager, Dumbledore greeted his Potions Master with the usual pleasantries. "How was the trip, Severus? Would you like some tea?"

"It was fine and no, thank you," the Potions Master answered impatiently before taking up the gauntlet. "Sir, if I may…?" Dumbledore nodded his acquiescence, gesturing for Snape to continue. "Why did you have me bring Mr. Potter to the castle? What is going on?"

"Well, Severus, as you are well aware, the final battle is upon us. I would be very surprised indeed if we were to make it to Halloween without incident. It is quite clear that Voldemort intends to storm this castle; he has an unhealthy fixation on destroying Hogwarts and killing Harry. He is only getting stronger…" Just then, the headmaster trailed off, revealing more uncertainty as to his faith in a favorable outcome of the escalating conflict than Snape was expecting or prepared to deal with.

Soon the old man composed himself and continued, leaving Snape to question whether he had imagined the other's anxiety; hoping- no, _needing_- that to be the case. "Like it or not, Harry will be thrust in the middle of this, through no fault of his own, and we would be remiss not to prepare him for the fight ahead. We all stand to lose in our next confrontation with Tom Riddle, but Harry more than most. It is to this end, Severus, that I have asked you to bring Harry back to the school- to train him in defense and dueling and the dark arts. Incidentally, how is he?"

As Professor Snape struggled to take in the Headmaster's transition from forbidding to casual, he admitted that Harry didn't seem to be at the top of his game. "Honestly Albus, I think the boy should stay in the infirmary this evening; he appears ill."

"I see…" but before Dumbledore could finish, Snape spoke up once more. "Furthermore, for reasons unbeknownst to me, Harry no longer has his spectacles. His clumsiness today indicates that this absence is quite debilitating and perhaps even physically painful. Can't we just correct his vision and be done with it? It seems a rather dangerous weakness to have anyway, considering that he will undoubtedly face the Dark Lord at some point."

"Severus, permanently correcting one's vision through magic is a difficult and unnecessarily risky endeavor. Even if one is a fully qualified opti-wizard, the consequences… trust me; they do not bear thinking about. Why do you think I wear glasses, and Minerva, and Trelawny? I daresay, the great Wizard Benjamin Franklin had the right of it when he invented the bi-focal. Now then, about Harry's spectacles, you will take him into London tomorrow and get a new pair- perhaps something a bit more flattering than his former frames? That is, of course, provided that Poppy gives him a clean bill of health."

The Headmaster rose from his seat, signaling that the conversation was nearing its end. "Good, now that's settled…" he murmured more to himself than his companion before abruptly addressing his Professor directly, "Oh yes, and another another thing... it's about your 'relationship' with Mr. Potter. You seem to have a rather inexplicable disliking for the boy, Severus. Moreover, this _animosity_, as it were, seems to have, if possible, actually deepened in the aftermath of your lessons and the events of last year. This cannot be, Severus. It _musn't _be.

Dumbledore turned then, the corner of his mouth twisting into a half-smile at his Potions Master's expense. "Now, I am not suggesting you adopt the boy, Severus." At this, the professor snorted loudly, eyebrow raised. "I would merely like you to be....well...., _civil_ is a good place to start. I assure you Harry is really quite sweet! I will, of course, also be discussing this with Mr. Potter later. You two will be fighting on the same side; it behooves you both to make some effort to put aside your differences and get along! Oh yes, and before I forget, we must discussliving arrangements…" At this mention, Snape's mouth widened further, fearing the implications of the twinkle in the other man's eyes. "After tonight, you will be residing in the Gryffindor dormitories with Mr. Potter, mainly to protect him. Noting Professor Snape's horrified look, Albus added innocently, "Unless of course you would prefer him to sleep in your dungeons?"

"No," the Potions Master replied hastily; he would not have the insufferably obnoxious troublemaker mucking about in his personal space. Migraines induced by an overdose of red and gold décor was vastly preferable to Snape.

"Good." He stated, accompanying the Potions Master to the door. As Dumbledore emerged with Severus in tow, both were met with the sight of Harry slumped rather uncomfortably in the chair in the hall, sleeping soundly.

Smiling briefly, the headmaster cleared his throat causing Harry to wake. The boy straightened to look at the two professors, grimacing, Snape noted absently. "Hello, Mr. Potter."

"Hello, sir." Harry responded, looking a bit concerned at what could have prompted Dumbledore to send for him during the summer.

"You may be wondering why I have requested your presence in the castle this summer… rest assure that Professor Lupin, Hermione and the Weasleys are all in perfect health and can't wait to see you. It is not a tragedy, merely a precaution that requires you to be here at this time, Mr. Potter." Dumbledore explained, giving Harry a meaningful look before lowering his voice to continue, "I think we can all agree that last year mistakes were made, the lines of communication were severed, and the cost of those bad decisions was too high. I don't intend to repeat those mistakes…preventative measures are being taken by the Order as we speak, and part of that process begins here- with the two of you. I speak of course, of your training Harry. Professor Snape has kindly agreed to tutor you in defense and dueling, and I think you and I can work out an occlumancy schedule. It is my understanding that a review of the basics would be….beneficial," he finished diplomatically, shooting Severus Snape a somewhat disapproving look.

Harry nodded to show he understood. Although he wasn't necessarily looking forward to spending the summer with Snape, he couldn't help but feel a bit relieved. At least he would be doing something. Hadn't Dumbledore just said that he would be part of the process, part of the solution this time around? Where once anger would have welled up, consuming him- there was only regret and guilt. Dumbledore was right, he could not afford to repeat his mistakes.

The younger wizard had been fearing the worst: that Voldemort had ravaged the wizarding world during the five weeks since he had left the castle, finishing what he had started at the Ministry… that Sirius had been joined beyond the veil by one of the Weasleys or any number of other innocents, magical and muggle alike. He shuddered again, forcefully pushing the terrors from his mind. He would defeat this; he would not wallow; he would strive to do better with occlumancy, with his training, even with Snape- everything depended on it.

Both Snape and Dumbledore were concerned by Harry's response, or seeming lack thereof. Breaking the awkward silence, the headmaster shooed his student and professor toward the hospital wing so he could think. "Off to Madame Pomfrey with you! She'll have my beard if you don't visit the infirmary this evening. Good night, Harry. Severus," Dumbledore inclined his head, dismissing them.

"Goodnight, Professor," Harry responded.

"Sir," Snape acknowledged, taking his leave.

Shaking his head, Albus Dumbledore re-entered his office, and though there was a frown on his face, there was also a twinkle in his eye. No matter what, this summer would certainly be interesting.


	4. Summer showers, hold the rain

Title: Reluctant Savior (Chapter 4)

Author name: venus4280

Category: Drama

Rating: Pg-13 for language/intensity- subject to change

Spoilers: all five books

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended, and I get nothing from borrowing them except the pleasure of trying to write a good story.

Archive: If you want, just email me to let me know

A/N: Sorry for the wait- you know how pesky real life can be! Thank you to all of my reviewers (all 7 of you, right? Lol), particularly Blessing of Earendil, who is not only a talented writer in her own right, but extremely faithful in her reviewing. Well, as usual… let me know what you like and what you don't- I always entertain reasonable suggestions.

Happy New Year!

Drink this," the nurse ordered, tutting and shaking her head over Harry's criminal negligence when it came to his health.

"But…" he protested, eyeing the vial suspiciously.

Madame Pomfrey interrupted, "No arguments. You are far too thin, and you look like you haven't slept in weeks! Have you looked in the mirror lately, Mr. Potter?" she reprimanded.

"No," he replied, somewhat sheepishly. "Would it be alright if I took a shower and changed first?" he looked so desperate to get out of his oversized garments that she couldn't refuse him.

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt, but you must have an escort."

"Madame Pomfrey, I am certainly old enough…"

She cut him off, "End of discussion! Professor Snape will accompany you, and that is final. You look as though you might collapse at any moment… by yourself, indeed!" she clucked her tongue in disapproval, muttering to herself about how thinking he was invincible was going to put him in an early grave.

Interrupting the private diatribe of the disgruntled school nurse, Severus drawled, "I don't suppose I have any choice in the matter?"

"Certainly not! Now go before I decide to remind Albus that you still haven't received your _mandatory_ faculty physical," she threatened, shooting him a menacing look that rivaled the patented 'Snape death glare' in its sheer intensity and ability to inspire fear.

Resigning himself to his role as chaperone, Snape sighed. "Come!" he beckoned Harry, as he turned toward the door, his black cloak sweeping dramatically behind him.

Following Snape closely out of necessity, Harry stumbled, his palms scraping along the rough stone as he put out his arms to catch himself.

Snape turned to the sprawled Gryffindor, "There is a step there."

"Yeah," Harry retorted, sarcastically, "Thanks for the warning." He hauled himself back to his feet, continuing along the path, displaying a bit more trepidation than before.

Snape stood at the top of the staircase, tapping his foot impatiently. Harry briefly considered showing Professor Snape a choice hand gesture, but successfully restrained himself. Plus, he thought irritably, though the Potions Master seemed remarkably well-versed in muggle colloquialisms and terminology- he wasn't sure that the professor would fully appreciate the cultural implications of his upturned middle finger- and that wouldn't be any fun.

The pair finally reached the washroom, with Snape agreeing to wait outside while the boy conducted his business. After disrobing, Harry walked toward the shower, banging his hip on the edge of one of the lower wash basins. He gripped the sink, cursing, as pain exploded through his body- that was going to leave a mark. When the searing agony had dulled to a persistent throb, he got into the shower, finally achieving his objective. Letting the warm water wash over him, he knew that this goal, unlike many others-trivial and otherwise- that he had set his sights upon over the years, had been worth the struggle. Harry felt better than he had in weeks, relaxed, he succumbed to the beckoning darkness.

It had been a long time, and against his better judgement, while at the same time because of it, Snape went into the shower room.

"Potter, if it hasn't come off by now, it's probably supposed to be there." Snape pronounced, dryly.

Snape ventured farther into the steam-filled room, "Harry?" he called, practically choking on the boy's given name, a cold block of fear settling in the pit of his stomach.

Receiving no answer, he pointed his wand at the shower, turning off the water. "Harry?" he called again, knowing his inquiry would again meet silence. He really didn't want to open the shower curtain, but, he reasoned internally, the boy could be injured or worse. Several nightmarish images flooded his mind as he sharply pulled away the plastic veil.

There, before him in a crumpled heap, lay the Boy Who Lived. For a moment Severus could only stare. The boy was far too thin, seemingly only skin stretched over bones. Although several bruises marred Harry's otherwise smooth skin- most notable among them a large purple mass of broken blood vessels on his right hip and one on his chest- the Potions Master also saw a few smaller marks on his arms and at his collar bone- there did not, however, appear to be any blood. Without further delay, Snape grabbed the towel that the younger man had draped over the shower rod and scooped him out of the tub. Still holding the unconscious wizard, the Professor performed a simple lung clearing charm (just to be safe) _"expectoratium!"_ and then revived him, _"enervate!"_- It took a few seconds for Harry to respond to the second spell, but he did ultimately awaken, coughing and sputtering.

Snape probed deeply into the slightly glazed green eyes before roughly depositing Harry in the corner. "You do what you need to do, quickly," the professor ordered sharply.

Harry nodded feebly, "Thanks."

"I'll be outside," Severus informed him before departing the humid enclosure.

At this Harry leaned his head against the wall, contemplating how in the world he was going to get up. He thought his clothes were laying across one of the sinks, but he wasn't completely sure. Sighing, he closed his eyes, resting- it had all finally caught up to him, and Merlin strike him if he wasn't utterly exhausted-- Mediwitch be damned!

10 minutes passed, 15, then 20. Severus burst into the lavatory, only to see Harry sleeping in the corner.

"Are you narcoleptic, Potter?" Snape growled.

Harry jerked from his slumber, regarding the angry Potions Master wearily.

"Get Up!" snarled Snape, walking over to the sink, grabbing Harry's clothes and tossing them in his direction.

"If you are not outside, fully clothed in ten minutes…I promise, you will regret it!" With that, he once again retreated to the hallway, slamming the door behind him.

Severus Snape was angry, not at Harry, not really, but there was a general feeling of frustration building in him. He was certain he had had Potter all figured out, but today…well, it seemed every minute heralded the discovery of some new dimension in the ever shifting paradigm of his relationship with the Boy Who Lived. He didn't understand it, what the hell was his problem? Was he actually concerned, even slightly, for the child of his late school-yard nemesis? More importantly, why was this realization throwing him so off-balance? Suddenly, he felt like kicking something, but as Severus was a man possessed of a great deal of self control, he merely glared at the door, imagining something horrific befalling the school nurse- of all the things she could have suggested!

The one thing that could have made his mood more foul, aside from Voldemort appearing in front of him in the corridor that is, sped toward him, singing a jaunty, but dirty limerick, "There once was a slimy git of a Potions Master from Nantucket who's d…"

"Peeves!" Snape snapped, interrupting the lewd and insulting verse, "What do you think you're doing here?"

"Just out for an evening stroll, Snapey!" with that, the poltergeist floated away, commenting about how much happier Snape would be if he got a little action.

Fuming silently, Snape continued to wait. Where in the seven levels of Hell was Potter?

Finally, a full ten minutes later than he had been instructed, Harry emerged from the shower room. He was dressed- sort of. His pants were buttoned crookedly and his shirt seemed to be both inside out and backwards. He was carrying his shoes.

Snape's critical eye devoured the pitiable form, saying only "Nice socks." One was red and the other was green.

They had traveled a little ways before Snape noticed that Harry was limping slightly. Sighing, "What have you done to yourself now?" He then remembered the pronounced bruise on Harry's hip. Maybe the boy had been limping before too, and he just hadn't been aware of it.

"What are you on about?" Harry asked, irritated.

Snape just smirked, "You are just a regular picture of grace, aren't you, Potter?"

Harry froze and looked straight at the Potions Master. There was something about not being able to see properly, something that targets your personal will…this feeling of vulnerability had left Harry's temper rather short. Feeling his control slipping, raw magical energy filled the air causing the torches lighting the hall to flicker violently. Snape looked curiously at boy, but said nothing, as the calm had once again descended before the storm had even erupted.

As the pair continued down the hall, Harry finally responded to the professor's jesting question, "I am not exactly at my best right now, okay?" The younger wizard realized that if possible his headache was actually worse than it had been before the foray to the washroom.

"Clearly," Snape replied icily, once more turning his back on Harry, as they made their way back to the hospital wing.

"There you are," Madam Pomfrey exclaimed, "I was about to send the cavalry!"

Harry blushed, suddenly very interested in the trainers he was carrying.

"We had some... ah... difficulties," said Snape, diplomatically.

"I see," Poppy said, her eyebrows raised, taking in Harry's disheveled appearance.

"No more fussing out of you, drink this and get some sleep."

Harry grudgingly obliged. He barely had enough time to properly settle under the blankets before a blissfully dreamless slumber overtook him. Tomorrow, as always, looming before him- horrors and pleasantries likely to be bestowed in equal measure, for Thursdays Child had far to go.

TBC


	5. Muggle London

Title: Reluctant Savior (Chapter 5)

Author name: venus4280

Category: Drama

Rating: Pg-13 for language/intensity- subject to change

Spoilers: all five books

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended, and I get nothing from borrowing them except the pleasure of trying to write a good story.

Archive: If you want, just email me to let me know

A/N: Sorry for the wait, and this is a bit short too, as I decided to break it in half because of all the jumping around. The second half will follow shortly. I am still not entirely happy with it, but perhaps in time I can fix it to my satisfactions. Without further ado, thank you to all of my reviewers, we actually added a few to my small but erudite cadre :) . So first a nod to **Bellatrix-Vecours** for catching my bad spell-casting, the mistake has been corrected. I also want to fawn all over as well as thank **empathicsiren** for her insightful review- I do adore One Good Turn, and I am very pleased you're reading my little tale- thank you for my first review that is more than a sentence- more sarcasm on the way from all participants (willing and otherwise), I assure you. A huge 'thank you' also to **one small instrument** for a detailed and thoughtful review! Thank you for breaking your rule regarding commenting. I am glad to note you picked up on Snape entering Gryffindor territory- you almost never hear of it, and I also find it far more likely than the alternative scenario. **Emma** and **Pleione**- thanks for the comments. And a special thank you to **chubby redburn **who is an astonishingly good writer in her(?) own right and whose story I salivate over. You said the kindest, sweetest thing that any other human being has ever said to me regarding my writing! Wow, just thanks- it was the kick in the ass I needed to get this chunk out. It is greatly appreciated. Thanks again, and remember suggestions are always welcome.

---------

Early the following morning, Severus Snape descended upon the infirmary, intent upon waking Harry and departing for muggle London as soon as possible.

"Potter!" Snape barked, quite dreading the impending trip with his least favorite student.

Snape was just about to shake Harry awake when Madame Pomfrey entered the ward.

"Severus," she said quietly, "Let him sleep. The boy isn't well."

He looked away somewhat guiltily and thus missed the mischievous glint in Poppy's eyes and the fact that the corners of the stern nurse's mouth pulled slightly upwards. _'You are not the cold-hearted bastard you would have us believe, Professor Snape,'_ she thought to herself, _'and I am going to prove it!'_

"Fine, send him to the Great Hall when he wakes- I do have other things to do today!" The snarky rejoinder hung in the air as the professor turned to leave.

As she pulled the blanket more firmly around Harry's shoulders, she pondered the plight of the battered soul before her and the shell of a man who had just walked out the door. The animosity between the two was legendary, and yet…she frowned, it was so necessary for both… each desperately needed what the other could provide: acceptance, faith, trust, and perhaps most importantly- love. Something that neither had ever been given in abundance and which both believed they no longer deserved. The sins were different, but the need was the same. She would make a guardian out of Severus Snape yet, and see to it that he didn't kill his charge in the process.

------------------

About an hour later, Harry found his way to the Great Hall. His appearance was much improved, but he still tread rather carefully and the lines of pain on his face had not completely disappeared.

He decided to take his breakfast at the high table next to Snape, rather than sitting alone.

As the Potions Master observed the other wizard heading towards him, he fought back a rude remark. He wanted to harass the boy, but Poppy's words came unbidden to his mind- 'the boy isn't well.'

"Good morning, Potter," Snape said, almost choking on his tea.

"Good morning, Professor," Harry replied, wondering idly if that strained, arctic tone was as friendly as Snape would get.

"After you finish, we are going to go to London to purchase eyes glasses," Snape announced.

Harry looked startled. "You didn't think we were going to let you stumble around the castle blindly all summer, did you? Honestly Potter! In any case, Professor Dumbledore took the liberty of withdrawing a liberal amount of money from your Gringott's account for the occasion, so we can head to the appropriate shop without any detours or delays."

Pleased by the idea of the shopping excursion but wary of his shopping companion, Harry absently put a forkful of eggs in his mouth- Food for thought, indeed!

-----------------

Muggle London

Waves of people, colors swirling incomprehensibly around him- the noise, it was deafening. Harry felt nauseous, images swimming before him- blood rushing, dizzy. Swaying, he reached out to his buoy in the vast sea of confusion.

Snape suddenly felt something clinging to his robes, and barely repressed the urge to forcefully disengage the offending object. "Don't touch me!" he said, his voice cold, almost hissing, as he turned to see who or what had accosted him.

"I need a minute," Harry said, his voice sounding weak.

Snape sighed, frustrated. "We can't bloody well stand here in the middle of everything," he commented, as some hurried travelers jostled them, almost knocking Harry to the ground. Still annoyed at the invasion of his personal space, he ushered Harry to a bench up ahead.

A few minutes passed, and neither said a world.

Finally, the professor addressed Harry impatiently, hoping his irritation thoroughly masked his underlying concern, "Have you sufficiently recovered?"

Harry was actually feeling significantly better. However, rather than reassuring the Potions Master, he merely nodded. The effect was less than convincing. Unlike previously on the Knight Bus, this time when Snape rose, he reached out to help Harry, offering his arm for support. Though much recovered, Harry found himself gratefully accepting the assistance, unnecessarily leaning on the taller man. _'What am I playing at?'_ Harry rebuked himself internally. '_Really, Potter_- he thought to himself- _you have practically reached your majority, it's too late for you- and look where caring for you got Sirius_. No, this had to end. Harry had learned his lesson quite well the first time; no one else needed to die. He couldn't believe he was even fleetingly entertaining such thoughts, period, never mind that the person in question was his most hated professor. And yet, here was Snape acting practically parental- Warmth in his eyes despite the often cold and punishing tone of his voice. The Potions Master's arm draped over him, bracing him against the horrors of past and present, and shielding him from the demons lurking just at the edge of sight. And so it was that, despite his resolve, Harry found himself melting into the half embrace, desperately searching for the acceptance he craved, all the while silently acknowledging that nothing good could come of his little indulgence. He wanted a father, wanted a family, wanted someone to tell him that that he didn't have to do it alone, someone to be proud of him when he did well on an exam, someone to tuck him in at night and take aware the nightmares…someone to love him for _him _and not for what he symbolized to the Wizarding world or for a prophecy that he quite doubted he was capable of fulfilling with anything other than his own demise. But he knew he couldn't have that, and Harry had long ago trained himself not to yearn for what he had no hope of receiving.

Severus, for his part, found Harry's suddenly limp carriage and unseeing gaze worrisome in the extreme. "Are you okay?" he questioned his charge, Poppy's words on his mind for the second time that day.

"Yes." Harry said, straightening, with effort, "I'm fine."

Frowning, Snape just nodded, absently guiding them down the street toward a distant row of shops. Once again, the professor was aware that the dynamic between them had changed, disrupting the delicate balance. For, deep down inside, something had lurched as he recognized the bluff for what it was and the reason for the child's brave face. Then, slowly, very slowly, an idea began to take shape in his mind. Putting away his line of thinking for later, and casually dismissing his appalling track record with plants and small animals, he signaled their arrival at the appropriate vendor.

TBC


	6. What you least expect

Title: Reluctant Savior (Chapter 6)

Author name: venus4280

Category: Drama

Rating: Pg-13 for language/intensity- subject to change

Spoilers: all five books

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended, and I get nothing from borrowing them except the pleasure of trying to write a good story.

Archive: If you want, just email me to let me know

A/N: This chapter, I hope, is a bit more light-hearted and amusing than its predecessors or some of the ones that will follow. I giggled hysterically at some of these lines while I was writing them, so I hope you enjoy them too. The decidedly different tone of this section is also the reason why I decided to split it from Chapter 5. Once again, thank you to all of my reviewers. First, **Dragonero, Emma, **and **Pleione** thank you for your kind words- it is very encouraging and I quite appreciate that you take time out to write a little note. Again, thanks to **one small instrument**- you are as always, quite the astute reader. I do wish JK would shake things up a bit regarding those two…why have mutual enmity when you can have mutual respect? That's what I say anyway. Much more shifting in the future, but hopefully no one will get dreadfully out of character in the process. Hello again, **chubby redburn, **I do try- though unfortunately awkward phrasing creeps up on me when I least expect it- damn the writing Gods!!! And Finally, **Mione5**, I am thrilled that you took the time to give this one a look, as you know, I am a huge fan of yours. Yes, there were so many ways to take this- and in fact I had originally intended for it to go a different way, but upon review decided this type of relationship was the best option for the characters in this particular story. Now, on with the story!!

-------------------------

"Mr. Harry Potter," the receptionist called out.

"Yes," Harry answered, not quite able to discern where the voice was coming from. Snape rolled his eyes and went up to the reception area to see what was needed.

The woman behind the desk handed the Potions Master a clipboard and a pen, explaining the process, "if you would, Mr. Potter, just fill out the form and sign the bottom, okay?" She gave him a strange look- thinking to herself, _'the way the bloke is acting, like he's never seen a ball point pen before… too bad too. Ah well, the attractive ones are always mentally disturbed.'_

"Just a moment," he gave the woman a forced smile.

Snape went back to the waiting area and escorted Harry back to the front desk. "_I_ am not Mr. Potter- _he _is. _I_ am Severus Snape," he stated this as if that fact should be blatantly obvious to anyone.

"Then why'd you come… oh, are you the boy's father, then?"

_'Muggles'_ he thought, annoyed. "Not hardly," he couldn't help but vocalize. "I am _Professor_ Severus Snape, one of the boy's teachers. You see," he began, not quite sure what he was going to say, "Harry attends a boarding school, um.. St. Brutus'" Harry just looked at him, how in the world had he known? "Yes," he nudged Harry with his elbow, subtly. "A premier learning institution, specializing in year-round education."

"Okay," the woman said, skeptical as to what the story had to do with an eye appointment.

_'Lovely,'_ Snape thought, '_I am going to have to perform a memory charm before we leave._' He continued, "Well, there was an unfortunately incident with a broo…"

"Uh, Basketball," interjected Harry quickly.

"Right," Snape covered, "A basketball, and seeing as how Mr. Potter's parents are _indisposed_ at the moment"- _'you don't know the half of it, lady'_ he added, mentally- "I was wondering if it would be alright for me to, um, fill this in," he gestured awkwardly to the clipboard.

"Do you have some form of identification?" she asked, officially, though all she really wanted was his address.

"Certainly," he answered, reasonably, "doesn't everyone?- It must be in my bag, hold on." He walked back over to the area with the plastic chairs and magazines, shooting Harry looks that quite clearly stated, 'I am going to kill you when we get out of here.'

"Stand in front of me, while I try and conjure some Muggle Identification." Snape ordered, the hostility in his voice and bearing strong.

"It would have been easier if you had just told her you were my father."

Snape merely raised an eyebrow at Harry, who flushed at his own temerity, muttering "Quite," before offering a small, laminated card for the boy's approval. At Harry's nod, the pair traveled back to the desk. When Snape had satisfied the woman's curiosity, the optometrist called Harry into the examining room. "May I? Snape requested quietly, confiding "Muggle technology amuses me."

"Um, sure," answered Harry, uncertainly, "You don't by chance have a plug collection, do you?" Harry asked, grinning, unable to control himself.

"No." It was Snape's turn to be baffled.

At Harry's shrug, Severus put his hand on Harry's back and gently guided him to the appointed chair.

----------------------

After the exam was completed and the doctor had made it clear to both Snape and Harry numerous times how extremely poor Harry's eyesight was, they were presented with the task of choosing appropriate frames.

A sales woman grabbed the unsuspecting Harry and drug him over to one of the many display cases. Plucking a pair of glasses from the center of the column and placing them on his face, she gestured to a nearby mirror, "What do you think of these, young man?"

"Um…" Harry found that he couldn't really see well enough to pass judgement. "They seem okay…" he turned to Snape, who was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed defiantly.

Upon being asked his opinion, Snape strode purposefully to the saleswoman and Harry, shaking his head.

"Absolutely not! These…" he paused, scowling, as Harry handed him the thick rimmed glasses, searching for an appropriate term "… _monstrosities _would practically guarantee that any copulatory activities he might perchance to engage in would be conducted alone." Both Harry and the clerk looked questioningly at Snape, who sighed and muttered about appalling vocabulary, "I believe the more mundane term is 'BCGs'- Birth Control Glasses- spectacles that ensure that anyone foolish enough to wear them will never be propositioned."

Harry burst out laughing, Snape cared about his sex life?! Unbelievable! "But Sir," the clerk objected, "The boy is only what, twelve?"

Now it was Harry's turn to be affronted, "I am 16," or very nearly, anyway, he added silently.

"Oh, well, when you find a pair that suits you, let me know."

Snape was now laughing at him too, "So, I am short, what do you want me to do about it?" Harry asked hotly.

"Just pick out a pair so we can go!"

"I actually have no preferences in the matter at all, I can't see a bloody thing." He was still annoyed that the saleswoman thought he was so young, though he had been told he looked quite youthful without his glasses.

"Fine, stay right here." Snape then perused the shelves, selecting several frames.

"Try these on," the Professor instructed. After he had modeled each pair for Severus, the Potions Master made him try on the thin, slightly bronzed, wire frames again. "Yes, I think these are just the thing"

"Thank you," Harry said, sincerely. Snape merely nodded, as they presented their choice to the sales associate.

--------------

Later that night

Snape emerged from the portrait hole and ambled purposefully through the Gryffindor common room, attired quite uncharacteristically in a pair of flannel pajama pants and a tee-shirt that said, "Stop! I have a wand and I know how to use it!"

Harry stared. Where was his greasy, uptight potions master, and who in the name of Circe was this?

Noticing Harry's startled expression, Snape responded rather innocently by asking, "Surely you didn't think that I slept in my black robes too?"

Harry found himself nodding, that was exactly what he had believed.

Snape rolled his eyes and walked over to one of the chairs by the fireplace. He looked up and noticed Harry smiling at him.

"What are you so bloody happy about?" Snape couldn't help but retort- not at all pleased with his new living situation and especially not with his new roommate.

"Nothing," Harry answered, conversationally, "Just your shirt, it's pretty funny."

At this, Severus' face took on a configuration that looked at once bizarre and frightening. He grinned, teeth and all, his voice was almost friendly when he said, "Yes, isn't it great? There is this shop, 'Where the Sun Doesn't Shine'"

Harry raised an eyebrow. Catching the boy's incredulity, Snape explained, "Oh, they named it in honor of their very first tee-shirt slogan: 'You know where you can stick your wand!' They have..."He stopped, suddenly, the mischievous glint that had animated his coal black eyes only seconds before was replaced by the characteristic aloofness and cruelty. The lines on his face resumed their grim set before he continued, "I mean, the shirt was a gift from a friend, not a _real_ friend, mind you, but someone my parents paid to play with me as a child- not that I was ever really a child- oh, and by _'play,'_ of course, I mean that I tormented him until he cried. However, being the utilitarian, fascist, bastard that I am, I do not believe that anything should go to waste. Thus, I wear this tee-shirt when I haven't tortured the house elves into cleaning my clothes for a while.

At first, Harry just looked shocked, but then he broke out into an actual laugh. His sounds of amusement possessed an almost lyrical quality, brightening his entire face and returning the sparkle to his astonishingly green eyes. When Harry regained a semblance of control, he spoke to the Potions Master, "You have a sense of humor, Professor. I think Hell must have frozen over."

Severus paused, glaring at Harry before replying, "No, I do believe it is still rather warm in here." With that, he flopped onto the chair facing the fire and ignored the petite Gryffindor.

Harry shook his head in disbelief before making his way up the steps to the bedchambers in the tower, resigning to tell Ron and Hermione of his whereabouts and about the Potions Master's unexpected behavior. He was certainly seeing a side to Severus Snape that he had never dreamed existed. Just maybe, this summer wouldn't be so bad.

TBC 


End file.
